


A Mental Land Lady, A Wooden Spoon and A Spare Key...

by pearlydewdrop



Series: Cute, Dorky and a Wee Bit Mental (Collection of Random Derry Girls Stories!) [4]
Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, But they're still the same eejits..., Completely Mental!, Don't worry no Jamess will be harmed in this fic!, Erin Quinn: our number one drama queen!, F/M, First Meetings, Funny, Kinda daft; but we'll go with it..., Nonsense, Two Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28837878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: Nothing said 'meet-cute' like being chased around in the dark by a small terrifying shadowy figure with a wooden spoon.And they say romance is dead...
Relationships: James Maguire/Erin Quinn
Series: Cute, Dorky and a Wee Bit Mental (Collection of Random Derry Girls Stories!) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044645
Comments: 14
Kudos: 40





	1. Erin's POV

**A Mental Land Lady, A Wooden Spoon and A Spare Key...**

**1998**

For some unknown reason, the tick-tocking of the alarm clock on her bedside locker seemed to be at least twice as loud and annoying as usual.

Nose screwed up in concentration, Erin Quinn tried her damnedest to focus on the passage of Moll Flanders in front of her.

How the feck was she, _a creative genius of a calibre the world was yet to see,_ supposed to be writing a whole flippin' essay on that utter scutter? It was doing her head in, so it was!

"I love my degree! I love my degree! I love my degree", Erin chanted through gritted teeth. Deep down, she knew that the words still rang true even after a trying first year at university.

"I love my degree! I love my STUPID FECKIN' NIGHTMARE of a degree!

Irritated, she clutched at her headphones and chucked them off in one aggressive swoop. Disconnected from her Walkman, they hit the ground with a clatter. For the very first time in Erin's life, Dolores O' Riordan was doing absoutely nothing to inspire her.

 _Dreams?_ Dreaming of what! _Schizophrenic Playboy?_ Just get yourself a new boyfriend, Love! _Zombie?_ If Erin had to read one more word from one Daniel Defoe that was exactly what she would be turning into turn into.

Fuck Ghost Dog! Zombie Erin Quinn was the real deal!

"Feck's sake!", she huffed, decidedly shoving the novel aside.

For all the good it would have done, Erin should've just dolled herself up, knocked a few back and gone out on the lash with Michelle. So much for trying to be studious! Weren't epic nights out (going hell for leather and painting the town red!) supposed to be the best part of going to college?

With the music no longer blaring in her ears, the flat was quiet...almost eerily so. Not that Erin was one to believe in any sort of supernatural shite or anything _. (Especially after that whole situation with Clare, the chess club meetings and Sister Michael's judo gear! Wasn't it absolutely scundering that they'd actually bought that?...Jesus!)_

Until suddenly...

...Erin stopped everything.

The unexpected sound of a key sliding into the lock on the front door reached her ears. Frowning in genuine confusion, she glanced down at her wrist watch.

It was just after eleven o' clock. Michelle wasn't usually home from a night out that early! No self-respecting Irish person would be...

Erin waited for her friend's customary drunken grumbling as she inevitably crashed into the coat stand that her Ma had insisted upon her bringing to Belfast. ( _What sort of college student needed a coat stand? God's sake!)_

Hearing the familiar crash and waiting for Michelle's equally familiar string of expletives, Erin froze at the sound of something particularly shocking. A voice! And not just any voice! An unexpected unfamiliar voice, clearly belonging to someone standing smack bang in the middle of the hallway.

"Bugger!"

Attention well and truly captured, Erin's head shot up in alarm. There was someone ( _someone who definitely wasn't Michelle!_ ) in the flat...

Fear fogged her brain and the thoughts of coats stands, judo gear, nights out and ghost dogs were like a distant memory.

_Bugger?_

No matter how wallpapered she was, Michelle Mallon would _never_ use the word _bugger_! Scratch that—In her nineteen years of existence, no Irish person Erin had ever encountered would ever _EVER_ seriously say the word _bugger_!

There was only one other plausible solution...

There was an English person in the hallway!

A real live English person had just gotten themselves absolutely clobbered by her Ma's coat-stand in an attempt to break into her flat!

What in the name of God was Erin supposed to do! Was there even a protocol for something like that! Her blood ran cold, adrenaline surging through her veins.

Erin floundered wildly, completely unsure of what to do with herself.

With limbs like jelly, it took just a second longer than usual for her legs to join in on the act and actually co-operate with her brain. They carried Erin out of her bedroom quicker than Orla in pursuit of the last Wham Bar at Dennis's Wee Shop.

_Oh Sweet Holy Mother of Fuck!_

Breathing hitched and palms sweating, she stood in the middle of the kitchen. She was back looking for inspiration, albeit not of the literary sort this time and not from Dolores O' Riordan.

Erin heard her Da's voice in the back of her mind (telling her to ring the guards or some other sensible nonsense!) but disregarded it completely in favour of the _far superior_ advice she knew her Ma and Granda would give.

Feverishly throwing open the drawer, Erin reached for her mother's (not to mention her mother's mother's!) weapon of choice. Steeling her resolve, she braced herself before charging out into the hallway.

Far and wide, let it be known that there was nothing more terrifying than a Derry woman brandishing a wooden spoon.

God help the wee English prick who got in her way!


	2. James's POV

**A Mental Land Lady, A Wooden Spoon and A Spare Key.**

Why had he applied for Uni in Belfast again?

...Something about getting to know his background a little better?...Appreciate his heritage?...Get back in touch with his extended family?

_Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!_

James huffed out a humourless laugh, practically lamenting the fact that he hadn't just applied to King's College like his mother had originally suggested _...or demanded_. At least in London his land lady wouldn't have taken an instant ( _and completely unfounded, he might add!)_ dislike to him.

Fair enough, his accent wasn't exactly the norm around this neck of the woods but surely that wasn't enough of a reason to go changing the lock on the front door without even the slightest forewarning, right?

Finding himself kicked out of his digs had been the last straw, the one to break the camel's back!

James Maguire was literally done with the whole bloody country! Since crossing the Irish Sea, he may as well have gone head first through the fucking looking-glass! Belfast wasn't the place for the likes of him and that was that.

Eyeing his cousin's front door with a slight feeling of discomfort, James stopped.

He should knock, right? It was only polite to knock...

Gaze dropping to his wrist watch, James frowned distractedly.

It was barely eleven o' clock on a Friday night and the chances of Michelle being home were slim to none. The weight of the spare key she'd given him ( _alongside two warnings)_ upon first hearing of his impending move to Belfast felt particularly heavy in that moment. When they'd last met for their grandmother's seventieth birthday, Michelle's parting words had been as follows...

_(A.) "The spare's only for emergencies, James. I won't be having your whiny arse showin' up on my doorstep for no good reason! So between you and me, you'd better be dyin', a'right?"_

_(B.) "And if you do see me around town, don't say hello. In fact, don't even look at me! No one wants to be associated with an absolute ballbag!"_

She was a real charmer, Michelle Mallon. James was truly blessed to have such a _lovely kind warm-hearted_ person as his first cousin.

Sighing deeply, he opted to just go ahead and bite the bullet. After all, what was the worst that could happen? ...Michelle completely loosing her shit...Michelle verbally tearing stripes off of him...

To James, that just sounded like his every visit to Derry ( _which admittedly hadn't been that often...his mum really hated the place_ ) since birth.

Decidedly slipping the key into the lock, he shuffled somewhat awkwardly inside the door.

In the semi-darkness of the hallway, he couldn't quite see what was in front of him and crashed straight into a...coat-stand!

"Bugger!", James yelped out in surprise as the whole bloody thing toppled down on top of him. Was this Michelle's idea of a security system? When it came to his cousin, nothing could surprise him anymore!

"Oh bugger!"

In the moments that followed, James just about managed to process what was going on around him.

One second, he was hopelessly losing a fumbly one sided battle with a piece of furniture. The next, he was being tackled into the wall by a small terrifying shadowy figure. And pressed right up against his jugular was...a wooden spoon.

_This place was ABSOLUTELY MENTAL!_

Heart racing, his life flashed before his eyes. James stumbled backwards, hitting against the light switch and illuminating the room.

He glanced down, eyes falling upon a blonde haired girl around his own age...

"Hey, you!", she spat. Her gaze was fierce, betrayed only by the slight quiver of anxiety in her bottom lip. _(Rather ironic, really...her being frightened, especially since she was the one who'd practically pinned him against the wall_ ) "Stall the ball, will ya?"

Internally berating himself for forgetting the possibility of Michelle's roommate being in, James threw up both hands in surrender.

To his credit, he knew enough not to get on the wrong side of a fiery Irish girl...particularly one who was evidently insane enough to be best mates with his cousin. James wasn't a complete fool after all!

"I'm sorry!", he declared, absolutely mortified and genuinely apologetic about the imposition. "Look, I hadn't realised that you'd be here!"

The girl's grip tightened on the wooden spoon. She didn't seem to be going anywhere, making absolutely no move to get off of him.

"I live here, don't I?", she huffed. "Where the feck else would I be?"

James gulped, gently pushing the spoon away from his neck.

"Like I said, I'm sorry for bursting in on you. I should've knocked first and properly introduced myself."

Still unconvinced by his earnest apologies, the girl stepped back...thankfully taking the wooden spoon with her.

For the first time since setting her eyes upon him, she eyed the contents of James's left hand in blatant suspicion. "How'd you get those?"

Following her accusatory gaze down to the keys, James tried to produce what he hoped was a reassuring smile. God knows why he found himself reassuring _her!_ She had nearly given him a heart attack!

"Michelle gave them to me", he returned simply.

"Aye, so she did...", the girl scoffed sarcastically, clearly not believing him. "...Michelle may be liable do daft shit from time to time but givin' her keys to strange English fellas wouldn't be one of 'em."

"I'm not a strange English anything!", he insisted, ready to set the record straight. "I'm Michelle's cousin James!"

Seeming genuinely floored by the realisation, the girl looked him up and down.

For one bizarre moment, he wasn't entirely sure whether he was being appreciatingly oogled or scanned for signs of a Mallon-Maguire family resemblance. Maybe both!

For some totally insane reason, the thought made James's cheeks darken. _Could the night get even weirder?_ He honestly didn't think so...

"Kathy's son?", she inquired, no longer looking quite as threatening as before. "Yer Ma's the wan who went off to England years ago?"

James nodded fervently, stammering out his reply. "That's right..."

Now that she was no longer preparing to beat the lard out of him, he found himself noticing just how pretty Michelle's friend was. In response to that particular observation, James began tripping over himself accordingly. "I'm—uh, going to uni here and my land lady locked me out because of—"

"—the English thing?", the girl finished with a faint unsurprised smile.

Nodding, James felt himself involuntarily smile in return. _Jesus Christ, what was happening to him?_ His brains were turning to mush...actual mush!

"Right well, I s'ppose I shouldn't have nearly lamped ya...", the girl admitted with a slightly snorty laugh that caused butterflies to take flight in the pit of his stomach. "Yer probably dodgin' enough fists most days."

James shrugged nonchalantly, his smile growing almost mischievous. "Perhaps. Although, I can't say I was expecting the Karate Kid on the other side of the door."

 _Was he flirting? Was he ACTUALLY flirting with her...or was he just about to start babbling about films_ _?_ In all honesty, James was starting to surprise even himself!

He didn't have moves, did he?

The girl rolled her eyes, drawing herself up proudly. She knew what he was doing... _of course she did..._ "Yeah well, in my defense Granda wasn't about to let me or my cousin leave home without being able to look after ourselves."

"So he's a proper Derry-born Mr Miyagi?"

"Somethin' like that."

For a moment, they stood opposite one another in silence.

One like a mirror of the other, their matching stupid goofy grins were infectious and their arms swung rather clumsily at their sides. Neither were quite sure what to do with themselves anymore but both knew, deep down, that _a wee spark_ had been ignited somewhere.

Scratching the back of his neck, James shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I—uh, don't think I caught your name..."

_Smooth, James...really bloody smooth..._

Her returning smirk was a rather smug one. She seemed to be pointedly ignoring how her face was every bit as crimson as his. "Erin. Erin Quinn."

"Well Erin, it's lovely to meet you..."

Erin guffawed softly at the comment, almost to herself. ' _Lovely to meet her'...she'd come next-door-near to whacking the head off him!_

"C'mon", she said, gesturing vaguely for him to follow her into the sitting room. "I best keep an eye on ya until Michelle gets home...hapless wee limey that ya're."

In spite of the scarcely concealed insult, there was something almost affectionate in her tone that had James unquestionably willing to follow her. He watched as the corners of Erin's lips widened into an unmistakably teasing smile—a smile James had a sneaking suspicion that he'd make an absolute fool of himself to see more of.

"I thought I'd already passed the interrogation."

"Aye, well that's still to be seen, so it is."

_Maybe, just maybe, Northern Ireland wasn't that bad after all..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :) Hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Hmmm, it seems as though I haven't written anything in a while but I'm hoping to finish this fic off and update 'Back for Good' in the next few days, so there's that! 
> 
> Wishing you all a great day, and a lovely week!!!


End file.
